


White-Hot Burn

by GhostlyIvy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol, Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Drug Use, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Multi, Murder, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-06-08 21:26:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6873964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostlyIvy/pseuds/GhostlyIvy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>College is taking a lot out of Harry. Stress is destroying him. Fred Weasley, someone Harry thought was "the one" begins to drain him and his confusion with his feelings for Fred and Draco Malfoy begin to take a toll on all of his relationships</p>
            </blockquote>





	White-Hot Burn

**Author's Note:**

> hello!! this is my very first fic ever! im in love with drarry and frarry so i had to add fred in here. i'm hoping to make chapters longer than the first one. Please bear with me!

“Mate, can you go get us drinks?” 

Ron Weasley’s voice was tough to hear over the roar of the audience. Harry frowned, straining his ears. This was the third time Ron had made him leave and Harry was the one who wanted to go to this concert in the first place.

He would have protested if a very drunk Hermione Granger wasn’t practically glued to both Ron and the fence. Letting out a quiet, inaudible sigh, Harry gave his date a sly glance. 

“You know I’m not going to say no, don’t give me that look!” Fred Weasley yelled, his usual mischievous grin plastered on his face.

How Harry Potter and Fred Weasley wound up together was beyond everyone. Harry and Ron were always close to the twins throughout school, despite the two-year age difference, but it wasn’t until Harry came out as bisexual that Fred showed interest.

-three months earlier-

The memory was burned into the back of Harry’s brain, one of his best memories. He’d let it slip one night while eating dinner with the Weasley’s. Of course, Hermione and Ron knew about it, and it wasn’t more than a small surprise to the family.

“oh, so that’s why you were so interested in Diggory, eh?” George had teased, earning a snort from Ron and causing Harry to go a very dark crimson.

“Shove it, George..”

\--

It was nearly 3am that night when Harry had been woken with a sudden need for the bathroom. He almost ignored it, too warm in the blanket Mrs. Weasley knitted, but finally decided he’d definitely feel better if he went now rather than later.

After drying his hands off, Harry flicked the light off then left the room. He only got one step in before his face hit something solid. Solid and warm. Harry was without his glasses and in a pitch black hallway. It was obviously another Weasley, but who…?

“Wotcher, Harry,” it was one of the twins, sleep flooding his usually perky voice. Harry couldn’t tell which it was, then his eyes adjusted to the dark. An ‘F’ was very obvious on this twin’s sweater. Fred.

“Sorry, I just-“ Harry rubbed his eyes, he was way too tired to explain himself. It didn’t matter anyway, “’m going back to bed anyway, Fred.”

Before he could walk away, Fred’s hand flew out and he took Harry by the arm, “Wait—oi, Harry hol’ on one sec, would ya?” Fred’s voice, still thick and slurring, grew more and more annoyed as Harry struggled, “I know you’re tired, jus’hear me out, alright?”

Trying to hold back a groan, Harry ceased his struggling and simply stood there. Fred almost never sounded this serious, it made Harry’s stomach flip, “Okay,” 

The Burrow was silent. Frogs chirped outside happily. There was a pond in the Weasley’s back yard, most likely full of them. It would have been calming if Harry could properly hear them over his pounding heart. Fred wasn’t saying anything, but his grip slid from Harry’s forearm to his wrist. No longer was it a tight hold, it was gentle; Harry could slip out of it if he wanted to now. Why wasn’t Fred saying anything?

Harry opened his mouth to ask if he was as daft as Goyle when Fred let out a breath, like he’d been holding it in for a while.

“What happened today.. at dinner,” his words weren’t as slurred now, but they shook slightly, “it made me… kind of happy—I mean I’m sorry you got outed in that way but—look all I’m trying to say is that.. m-me too!”

Squinting into the darkness, Harry swallowed, “huh?” his response was stupid, and he knew that, but Harry had no idea how he was supposed to respond.

Fred was growing more embarrassed, his face red even in the inky hallway, “God, Harry, you can be so thick..” he muttered, bringing his hand up to his forehead, “I always thought—look don’t take this the wrong way—I always thought you were..fit.”

It was Harry’s turn to be embarrassed—for the second time today, “You—what? Really?” a giddy feeling exploded in Harry, low in his stomach. He felt.. happy? Fred was always so kind to him, kinder than George ever could. Harry remembered having one of those school-girl type crushes on him first year, but he assumed it had just faded.

Wrong.

Harry twisted his wrist, attempting to hold Fred’s trembling hand. After realizing what he was doing, Fred released his hold and laced their fingers together. Harry felt like his heart skipped a beat at the action, every touch from Fred caused a small shock straight to Harry’s toes.

Fred’s hand was surprisingly soft. He was stroking Harry’s hand with his thumb. Harry wanted to purr, it was so calming, and yet it felt hesitant,

“I think you’re pretty…fit, too.” Harry spoke after realizing he had never properly responded and before “too” could fully leave his mouth, Fred was kissing him.

Really kissing him. This wasn’t his first time, Harry wasn’t exactly unpopular in high school, but it felt new. Like he’d never been kissed. Fred was gentle, in control, and Harry felt like melting. How did he get so good? The younger male barely knew what to do with his hands, so he tangled them into Fred’s bedhead. This only caused him to get more aggressive and suddenly, Harry’s back hit a cold wall.  
The yelp from the chill into Fred’s mouth made him come up for air, “Whoops..” he murmured against Harry’s lips, “Got carried away…”

\--

 

“Harry! OI HARRY!”

Jumping and letting out a “bloody fucking!”, Harry jolted back to reality, where Fred was glaring down at him. They were at the bar, but Harry hadn’t been all there. He blushed furiously, feeling stupid, and ordered their regular drinks, “Sorry, shit I’m sorry.”

“Where did you go just then?”

Harry ignored him, glancing around the small bar. There weren’t many people here, obviously, since the concert was going on, but it wasn’t exactly dead. There was a crowd of teenagers at one table giggling madly, naturally high, and an older group next to them. Harry couldn’t tell exactly who was at it, one had their hood up, one had their head on the table and—

“Getting shaggy, eh Potter?” a nostalgic, yet snide voice sounded behind Harry. It was joined with a sharp tug to a few strands of hair on the back of his neck, “Don’t you ever comb this mop?

Malfoy. Harry groaned internally, twisting his head to look then blinked in surprise. Draco Malfoy had changed, and in a really good way. They hadn’t seen each other in three years, not since graduation, and Draco seemed to be following his father’s style. Long, straight platinum blond hair was pulled back in a tight bun, a few strands in his face. He looked like he worked out now, not as lanky as before, but still taller than Harry. His cheekbones could cut a man now.

“I gave up on combing a long time ago, you should know that by now, Malfoy.” Harry mused in response. He never noticed how long his hair was getting. It wasn’t quite at the length of Draco’s, but it was thicker, messier. It stuck out in the back and around his ears. Harry liked it long, though. It hid the jagged scar over his eye. A scar he earned as a child. Not something he enjoyed being asked about.

Draco chuckled at Harry’s sharp answer. He deserved that cold attitude after their high school experience together. Draco and Harry weren’t friends, exactly. More like enemies.

“It looks good,” Draco purred, eyes hooded from the alcohol, “It’s hot, very.. very Harry Potter.”

He was drunk, but Harry still flushed at the compliment. He didn’t have a response for it, and stupidly scratch the back of his head, where Draco tugged.

“ahem..” Fred stood over Harry, holding two drinks in his fists. Harry swallowed, he forgot Fred was there, “Harry, you need to grab the rest of the drinks.”

“Weasley!” Draco called out, a smug grin on his face, “wait… which one are you again? Eh, doesn’t matter—wait are you two..?” the grin grew wider as Draco spoke. He waggled his eyebrows, “fucking?”

“Piss off.”

“Touchy!”

Draco took his eyes off of Fred and tilted his head toward Harry. Harry felt suddenly self-conscious and took in a breath. He didn’t like the way his high school bully was staring him down. Draco was chewing on the inside of his lip, his eyes hooded. It made Harry blush. This was new..

“A-anyway, I gotta.. I have to go, Malfoy.” Harry’s words scrambled together as he dodged around Fred to grab the last two drinks. When he spun back around, Draco had turned away, his focus elsewhere.

A slight tinge of disappointment flooded through Harry, quickly shaken off as Fred leaned down to kiss his cheek. 

Draco was drunk; he didn’t matter.


End file.
